Whiskey Lullaby
by Orcagirl2001
Summary: Songfic about Vash and Meryl. First time with Trigun. PLEASE REVIEW & NO FLAMES!


A/N: This is my first written anything that has to do with Trigun, and I've only seen like three episodes so if there is any OOCness forgive me. It's my first time with these people. Anyway, the song is a country song by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss. I thought it was the saddest thing I've ever heard. The way they sing it and the lullaby itself is just heart wrenching. I'm not sure why it reminded me of Trigun, but who can understand the brain? Oh well.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Trigun.  
  
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Whiskey Lullaby  
  
A TRIGUN songfic  
  
"I don't love you!"  
  
The words shot into him like a hail of bullets, piercing every vital emotion he possessed. Her eyes were puffy from crying and he wanted to wipe those tears away, but he was already having trouble keeping his own at bay. Anger swelled into his heart at her coldness.  
  
"Why, Meryl? How can you stand there and say that to my face? After all that we've been through, how can you say you don't love me?"  
  
"Because I can't. Now that I know who you really are, we can't have this kind of relationship anymore. Your a criminal, whether you act like it or not, and I can't let my own feelings interfere with the law."  
  
"So there are feelings. You can't be doing this for the money then."  
  
"Of course not!"  
  
"Then why? Just to keep your job? Or is there something else?"  
  
"It's not that Vash! Its...hard to explain. You're just not the right person for me. I'm sorry, but I have to go."  
  
"You can't just leave me here! The cops are sure to find me, especially if you tell them who I am. I've already explained that I've done nothing wrong! Why are you accusing me when I'm innocent? Why are you doing this, Meryl?"  
  
"Because you're Vash the Stampede."  
  
She left without saying another word. It was the last time he ever saw her face.  
  
Vash escaped the prison cell with ease, long before the authorities showed up, but in his heart he was still locked up on a death sentence. His heart ached as he walked the lonely streets, the wind picking up dust and throwing it into his tear-filled eyes. He stepped into an alleyway and punched the wall hard enough to make a fairly sized dent in the concrete.  
  
Why? Why did she do this to me? I thought she cared...I really thought...it was going to work...  
  
His stomach moaned and growled in discontent. He felt like puking. Wobbling on unsteady legs, he entered a nearby bar and sat down at the counter.  
  
"What'll it be stranger?" asked the bartender.  
  
"The strongest thing you've got."  
  
With shifty eyes, the bartender reached for a bottle of whiskey and slid it over to the glum gunman. He went to put a shot glass on the smooth wood counter but the blond put up his hand and said, "I won't be needing that."  
  
He took the bottle and gulped down every drop in a matter of moments. His head reeled, pain shooting up his spine, but still her face was there and he feared he could not forget it.  
  
~~~  
  
She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette  
  
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget  
  
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time  
  
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind  
  
Until the night  
  
~~~  
  
He lay there, nearly unconscious, half-dreaming of her large and round blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight, her silky black hair dancing around her face. The way she blushed slightly whenever he got close to her and the fighting spirit she never was seen without. He smiled at how she always put up a front and never admitted any feelings. He remembered everything. But he didn't want to remember.  
  
The last drop of whiskey fell from the edge of the bottle into his half dead throat, frozen from grief and anguish. He wanted to forever forget that face and those eyes and those tender lips that reeked of poison and the cursed love they once shared. How could he have been so stupid to believe she had feelings for him? No matter...it all ends now.  
  
His hand fell from the bedside, the glass shattering on the dusty floor. He turned his eyes way from the light and fell into eternal sleep.  
  
~~~  
  
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger  
  
And finally drank away her memory  
  
Life is short but this time it was bigger  
  
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees  
  
We found him with his face down in the pillow  
  
With a note that said I'll love her till I die  
  
And when we buried him beneath the willow  
  
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby  
  
lalalalalala la  
  
lalalalalala la  
  
~~~  
  
"Dead? Vash the Stampede is dead?"  
  
The words shot through her heart like the fire of a musket. It couldn't be true. She turned from her station and looked across the room at the crowd that had gathered.  
  
"Is it true?"  
  
"Yes. They found him in a cabin not too far from here. He had drunk himself to death, poor devil."  
  
"I wouldn't blame him. With $$60 billion on his head, what man wouldn't take his life?"  
  
"Still, we're talkin' Vash the Stampede, the infamous killer who has never been caught let alone beaten in a fight."  
  
"Who would have thought the legendary gunman would fall to the bottle."  
  
She struggled to keep the tears from falling, but failed. Rushing out of the office, Meryl burst into the restroom and felt she would hurl right on the blue-tiled floor. Her face went pale and she couldn't stop her hands from shaking.  
  
It can't be true, she repeated over and over in her head. It must be a lie. It can't be him. He can't be dead! But it was true and she wept over a fact that only she knew. It was all her fault.  
  
"Meryl?" Milly's voice echoed into the stalls. "Are you okay?"  
  
She did not answer her friend. She could only stand before the mirror, staring into her reflection, and whisper, "It was me."  
  
It was midnight when Meryl entered the bar. No one was around and she was glad of it. She sat down at the counter, her eyes red from crying through the afternoon.  
  
The bartender approached her and said, "You look like you could use a drink, Miss."  
  
Meryl only stared into the shimmering copper glasses lining the shelves, half-reading the labels that blurred with her tears. "Give me the strongest you have."  
  
Warily, he reached for a bottle of whiskey and a small shot glass. Placing it before her, his eyes widened as she pushed aside the glass and drank it straight, struggling to swallow each and every drop. Minutes later, her face wrinkled with pain, her head throbbed, hands trembling but she could not escape the torture inside. Past the bubbling glassy copper sea, she could still see his face.  
  
~~~  
  
The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself  
  
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath  
  
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time  
  
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind  
  
Until the night  
  
~~~  
  
It was so quiet. Only the sound of her own breathing broke the eerie silence. She took the papers that lay strewn across her bed and found a photograph of the mysterious gunman who no one could catch. The infamous killer, who she could not get out of her mind. Silver tears fell from her eyes as she stared into his. The soft blond hair, the twinkling kind stare and the wonderful smile he had always given her. She could feel his hands on her face, the soft lips caressing hers, and the happiness in her heart. But now, there was nothing...nothing but silence and the sound of her slow breathing.  
  
Her vision blurred as she continued to stare at the picture. She had drunk the last drop of whiskey moments ago and felt she could not sit up any longer. She fell against the blankets, clutching his picture to her heart and weeping loudly. I'm sorry, she sobbed. I'm so sorry.  
  
As she felt her heart slowing and the silence deafening her thoughts, she spoke her last words to the darkness. "I love you...Vash..."  
  
She turned her eyes into the darkness and never looked up again.  
  
~~~  
  
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger  
  
And finally drank away his memory  
  
Life is short but this time it was bigger  
  
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees  
  
We found her with her face down in the pillow  
  
Clinging to his picture for dear life  
  
We laid her next to him beneath the willow  
  
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby  
  
lalalalalala la  
  
lalalalalala la  
  
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A/N: Well, whay'dya think? Pretty lame huh? It's my first! What can you expect from a newbie? Please review and no flames. I don't have a fire extinguisher. ^^ 


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